


Bones of Deception

by SylvaniusOStephans



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvaniusOStephans/pseuds/SylvaniusOStephans
Summary: Blakely- Aldric Patrick Kardia was the known younger identical twin of the media dubbed Acid Murder of Willows, Solaris- Cyrus Wayne Kardia. He was the son of a highly dangerous assassin for hire. When he is suspected of dropping into the family business, they go and visit his brother who had been arrested, who tells them that Blakely is the one who can truly tell the horror stories of their family. Enter Rune Silas Atlas, the twenty- two year old owner of an antique bookstore who does his best to keep his nose clean and is basically a hermit when he isn't working. Rune is everything that Blakely is not, and never could be. But Rune and Blakely may not be so different after all. Once someone outside the family tries to copy them and tell their secrets to the rest of the world, they might agree on one thing. The copy cat has no idea what they are talking about, but Rune can't say so without admitting to the past he has been running away from. What will he do when he is the only one who can solve the clues of a Kardia obsessed copy cat killer?





	1. Chapter 1

Dust filled his nose the moment he opened the book in his hands, but he ignored it. It was nowhere near as bad as some of the books he had appraised before. That was one of the many hazards that he as an antique book seller, had to deal with on a weekly basis. The book was valuable, he could tell that from the paper, the ink, the binding, and the other details he had trained himself to look for. A first addition Tamerlane and Other Poems by Edgar Allen Poe, according to the man next to him, breathing over his shoulder. He had been mentally calling the man Piggy for the last hour, even though he was well aware of the client's real name.

Oscar Charles Morris III, he had heard the man say at least twelve times in said the last hour. He had been fine with calling the man Morris, but it did not fit him. The man was short, not that he could exactly talk, maybe five foot three compared to his 5'5. He had a very round face, very little hair, and seemed to have either really bad allergies that were acting up, or a very nasally voice.

"It's worthless, Mr. Morris." He said calmly, spotting what had been bothering him about the book. The paper was the right thickness, but the binding was all wrong. From there, it was easy to see that the man had been trying to pass off a first addition for a book that had been doctored. Besides, he knew how many first edition books there were, and out of the known fifty or so copies, it was extremely obvious that this wasn't one of them.

He had known that it wasn't worth anything at all, but he, well, liked wasting people's time that had been bothering him. If he had anything to say about it, then he would annoy the man into never coming back again. And the man had been bragging and annoying him for the last week about this so called collectable. Morris the Pig had made such a big deal about this rare book, but he had known from the moment the book was placed in his gloves that it wasn't real. No one would handle a book by Poe, even if it was supposedly written by the same anonymous pen name of the real Poe, like this man had. No gloves, no case, the paper was spotless, which would have been impossible if the book was really what the man claimed.

The man stuttered for a moment as he stared at him with cold blue eyes. "But," Piggy started, "Mr. Atlas, I-I was assured that..."

Rune Atlas snorted quietly. He knew how that sentence ended. Morris the Piggy was assured that no one would notice that the book was fake. The fool probably paid easily ten thousand dollars for the fake copy. "If you had left the book alone, and brought it to me as it was, I would have been able to possibly take it, Mr. Morris. Right now, all you have is a really expensive forgery." He took the book off the table he had been inspecting it on and put it casually in the man's hand. "If you actually have a rare book, Mr. Morris, I will consider evaluating it, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I was you."

He considered, for a moment, telling the man that he would call the police if he ever came back with another forgery, but decided against it. No matter how much he wanted to, Mr. Morris was a client, and he protected them. That was one of the reasons that he was being as polite as he was. The man should have been extremely grateful that he was in his work persona.

Not that he was especially violent. No, that had been his brother, mother, and the rest of his family that he had abandoned at a mere fifteen. Still, being raised by a sadistic sociopathic woman was killer on one's social skills.

He spent exact ten seconds wondering if his family was still alive, before pushing it out of his mind once more. He had more than enough to worry about without adding anyone else to his worries.

As a young man who had taken over an older man's antique book store, he had to worry about security more than most people. Most of the books in his possession were in individual cases inside a larger one. He had some of the rarest books in the world hiding in his little shop, if one knew where to look.

Just like with him.

Once he had reached fifteen, he packed up, changed his name, and moved to a place no one was likely to look for him. Sure, he was identical to his brother, but as long as the other did not get caught, or didn't do anything to make national news, Rune knew he was safe. Or at least, as safe as he could be with a family like his.

He had been here since he was sixteen, having lied about his age. Once the elderly man, John Aleric, who had opened the shop had passed away, Rune knew he had a chance to go down the right path for him.

He wasn't a traditionally good person, but he still took care of Martha Aleric, John's wife. He still brought her homemade food for dinner, or lunch, at least four times a week. He kept his nose clean, using what John had taught him to develop his own skills.

He was proud of himself, more confident in who he was becoming at twenty two than he had been at fifteen. He had escaped the family business, and taken a more... legal route.

He could recognize a scam for what it was, and even if Morris had no idea about him, he had to be extremely careful.

The thing was, it wasn't a matter of if his brother would get caught doing something he shouldn't, it was a when. Thus far, he had managed to avoid changing his appearance, but it wouldn't stay that way for very long. No, his brother took after his mother, who would probably be caught soon as well, drinking up the lessons on taking a life.

When he was younger, he had wanted to be a doctor or surgeon, in hopes of being able to heal while his family hurt. But he couldn't. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was his mother's son. He would have been too tempted to take after his great, great grandmother, an angel of death. Which was much more tidy than his mother, an assassin for hire, or his grandfather.

In fact, he was the first person in over five generations that did not want to take lives. No, that wasn't true. Some days, he wanted to, so badly that he had to keep himself locked up in hopes that he wouldn't finally snap. He was, however, the only one without direct blood on his hands.

He was sure his mother was still taking lives, just like his brother had probably been perfecting his method of killing. Because he stayed quiet, any deaths were partially on his shoulders. So, he had cut himself off from modern society. He did not have a cell phone, but an old antique phone that John had gotten. He did not own a computer, even if he had been quite the hacker as a teenager. He did not even read the papers, unless it was a Sundays, the only exception he usually made.

He had done everything he could ever do in order to keep his sanity, to keep his grip on a strong set of morals that would keep him out of jail. He let himself go through hell in hopes that his mind would strengthen, and it did. He had something that not a lot of people ever could, he had an ability to feel the urge to have fresh blood staining his hands, but not act on it.

Rune liked to think that he was stronger than the rest of his family because they gave into their primal desires. He pushed them away until he had evolved to not need it. He was sure the urges that his mother had forced into them wouldn't ever go away, but he didn't need them to.

No, as Piggy stormed out with his worthless fake, Rune would feel the urge to gut the man, but let it go.

He moved to close up his shop for the night, carefully not wondering if his ability to suppress his desires would ever collapse. He checked each case carefully, and brought the gates down so that he had a better chance of not waking up to some idiot trying to rob him, before heading towards a small doorway that blended into the wall.

Unlike what most thought, Rune never ever left his most valuable books out where people could get them. No, he thought as he pressed a small key into the almost fully hidden lock, he wasn't that stupid. As the door creaked open, he closed his eyes.

The air in here felt different than the rest of the world, even though logically, it wasn't. The back room was little more than a glorified closet in size, but bookshelves filled with his treasures made the room his favorite. Most of these books were ones that people would be lucky to see in a lifetime, but those weren't the ones his now warm blue eyes were drawn to.

No, there was a copy of Inkheart by Cornelia Funke, a Harry Potter book, and a worn, well read version of Huckleberry Finn. Those three books were his childhood, and three of the few possessions he had taken with him once he left. Those books were what had gotten him through some of the darkest nights.

He had made it a habit while on the streets to check that the three books were still there every night before he went to sleep, and it had stayed with him ever since. He wouldn't be able to answer Morpheus' call unless he had checked on his precious trilogy of stories.

Rune wanted to run his hands over the spines as he had done for years, but knew that if he picked them up, he would spend another night caught in their grasp. He wasn't really sure how many times he had read each of those books, but knew it had to be in the hundreds of thousands by this point. On his particularly bad days, he would pick one of the three and read it over and over and over again until his mind was back under his control.

For now, though, he had to retreat upstairs and rest before his mania took control again.

Rune needed to be normal for a little longer, and was exhausted. He didn't want to prove his weakness, and closed the small door before locking it.

Yes, he was cut off from society, but it was something he had to do. This wasn't going to last forever. He knew that his time as a shopkeeper was coming to an end. He was ready for his life to come crashing down around him.

Rune headed up the stairs that led to his rooms, hands on the rail as always.


	2. Blakely Kardia and Rune Atlas

The door closed behind him with a soft click. That noise helped him, Blakely, the real him, shake off Rune's persona. Left alone in his apartment, he didn't have to pretend anymore. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing loudly. Rune wouldn't have dared to make such a noise, but Rune didn't exist in the small rooms. No, for the night, he wasn't Rune, he was Blakely once more.

Sometimes, it was difficult to remember who was real. He had been forced to split himself mentally in order to survive. It was messed up, even he knew that much, but Blakely wasn't exactly someone that should be allowed to be around people. It was too dangerous, too tempting, for him to survive.

He had created Rune when he had been only twelve years old. Rune was the first thing he had done in hopes of one day escaping the life his mother pushed on him.

It was only a matter of time before his persona was useless. Rune was, after all, still a part of his brain. Rune would never be able to survive in jail, or on the run. He hadn't been created to do so. No, Blakely wasn't that cruel to himself.

Rune had never been forced to shoot people like they were livestock. Rune had never felt the rush of waiting for the perfect moment to pull the trigger. Rune had never been forced to learn several ways to kill in hopes of finding his own. Rune was still innocent, he had no blood on his hands, yet was always overly depressed about his own thoughts sneaking through the barrier that separated their minds.

He sat heavily in a wooden chair, letting himself simply focus on his mind for a while. Blakely hated Rune, hated what he represented to the darker half. He couldn't stand the lack of insight that his other half was known for. Rune hated him as well, for opposites reasons. To Rune, he was pure evil, waiting to ruin the life that the other had built. Technically, he was both Rune, the fiery shop keeper, and Blakely, the second son of the Kardia family, but someone who knew Rune wouldn't recognize him, and vise versa.

Where Rune was polite, Blakely was rude. Blakely didn't care about what other people thought. Blakely was quieter than his other half, and more analytical, calculating, and cold than Rune could ever be. Rune on the other hand, was louder, preferring to either over think everything, or rush into situations without a thought. Rune cared about what other people saw in him, and tried to stay as perfect as possible. To Rune, manners were more important than being comfortable. Rune was more of a hot head.

It was frustrating for him to rely on anyone else, even another persona. Blakely let his head fall on the wooden table. He had been raised as a killer, an assassin, or something similar. While Rune didn't have a family, he did.

His twin was Solaris, a twisted, cruel soul who had a fondness for watching flesh drip off the bones of his victims. Solaris used acid as his preferred method of torture and death. Solaris had become everything his mother, grandmother, great grandfather, and great, great grandfather had ever wanted.

Wayne Patrick Kardia had started the torture and secret sides back in the early eighteen hundreds. He changed the name he had been born with, to that of the man he wanted to become. Wayne had a son very young, like all of his family. He named the boy Zale Wayne Kardia. Zale's mother 'disappeared' when he was a few days old. The same thing happened to Zale's future daughter's mother.

Blakely honestly had no idea what had happened to his own father. But, his mother had broken the tradition in a very strange way. She ended up with fraternal twins, Solaris- Cyrus Wayne and Blakely- Aldric Patrick. Never before had anyone in their family had twins. Or, not as far as the rest of them knew. For all he did know, one of his father relatives were twins.

He let out a groan of annoyance. He was so tired of hiding, so tired of pretending to be normal. He wasn't, he knew a hundred ways to kill a man before he was five. He had been forced to kill as a child, and had learned to appreciate the feeling of blood on his hands.

That was true of both twins, technically, but Blakely knew how to restrain himself. Blakely knew what he did not want from life, where as Solaris had always been encouraged to take what he wanted when he wanted it.

He knew it was only a matter of time before Solaris was captured by the police, and when that happened, the calm life he had built for himself as Rune would go up in smoke.

He glanced at the metallic refrigerator, only as high as his knees. He did need to eat something. The thought made his stomach turn and bile rise in his throat. Yet another difference between Blakely and Rune. Blakely only ate when he had to, as the feeling of food sliding down his throat made him sick to his stomach. Rune, on the opposite side of things, liked to cook almost as much as he liked to eat.

He pushed himself up on unsteady legs, and moved to his bed. The whole apartment was set up in an open style. The only walls there were surrounded the bathroom. Everything else was easily in view, which made moving to his bed an easy thing.

Sleep overcame him the minute his head hit the pillows.

The next morning, Rune let out a quiet yawn as he polished the cases in his store. He hadn't slept well the night before, dreams filled with blood and a caged version of himself torturing the pig. When he was awake, he could suppress the monster his mother, or Blakely's technically, had created. It was as common as breathing, but he still struggled. When he was asleep, it was impossible to deny his blood lust.

It would be so easy to give into the need, but once he did, everything that made him himself would disappear. He wouldn't give in, no matter how much he wanted to. He would die as an old man surrounded by home, not in jail.

Hopefully, he thought sarcastically, it would be Blakely who died, while he stayed alone in their shared body. He rolled his eyes, before focusing back on his work. He hated dirt, dust, and smudges.

While his shop was hard to find for those who didn't know where to look, it never stopped mothers with young children from coming in and messing the place up. For some reason that Rune could never understand, people seemed obsessed with touching the glass, leaving their dirty hand print, or palm prints, on his glass.

He shook his head to himself, humming quietly as he worked. It was so strange to him, but it could have been worse. He didn't dare think about what would have happened to his precious books had they not been protected by glass.

The books would have been handled without gloves while he was talking to someone else. They would have been destroyed, and the story in each of them, forgotten once more. All things considered, he supposed it was alright that they touched the glass.

Though, he would have preferred they didn't touch anything.

The soft bell over the door chimed quietly, and he looked up, straightening himself from where he had been bent over the glass.

"Good morning." He greeted the man, "Welcome to Atlas Treasures."

The man wasn't someone he usually wanted in his shop. He was tall, in all black, with a trench coat. The man was looking around for something, and Rune hid a sigh. He knew that look. That look meant someone was looking for cameras.

Luckily for the man, Rune didn't like cameras. He knew that when he left, he had to do so without a trace. He didn't bother with anything like that.

The man reached in his trench coat for something. Rune felt his other side pull at his mind, trying to take over the situation. It wasn't needed though. He had everything under control.

That didn't stop him from tensing when the man started withdrawing his arm from the jacket. Thankfully, though, it wasn't a gun. But it was worse for him.

"Ya'r'a Kardia, aintcha?" The man's thick accent would have been difficult for most people to understand, but seeing as he sometimes had the same accent, it was simple.

He very carefully let Blakely come to the surface. He knew his other side would know how to get them out of this.

Blakely's eyes hardened, but his face stayed in the friendly position Rune had left it in. "I'm sorry, sir. What did you say?"

Being oblivious wouldn't stop the man, or change his mind if he was working with the police. To his surprise, the man snorted, and threw the thick folder at him. "Ya brother asked meh to bring it."

Blakely caught it with nimble hands, heart stopping for a moment. Solaris knew where he was. Even worse, Solaris had obviously known for a while. The only reason his brother would attempt to reach out would be if he knew he was going to be caught soon.

Blakely let out an annoyed breath, feeling his other sides disapproval. Damn. Double damn. Factoring in how long it would have taken the man to get here, it was likely Solaris was in police custody by now. That was bad, really, really bad. Most likely, his twin's picture was already all over the news.

"Thank ya kindly." Blakely muttered, letting his old accent slip out just a bit.

The man nodded at him, and left as suddenly as he had come. Blakely took in a deep, shuddering breath, walking over to the door. He locked it with a final click, and turned off the sign and lights.

It was time to go. He had a plan for this, of course. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but he would take himself out of here.

He paused mid step. Even if his twin had been arrested, they couldn't link him to anything of the sort. Solaris was a lot of things, a sociopath being the first, but his twin wouldn't turn on him unless he thought he could get something from it.

This was a warning not to get too comfortable with the life he was living. He clenched the file tighter in his hands, and moved upstairs for a moment to hide the file in a hollowed out slot in the wall.

He straightened himself, letting his other persona take over once more. For now, he needed to act like nothing was wrong. He couldn't pull it off, but Rune could.

And he did. The rest of the day was calm, quiet, and fairly typical for him. Throughout the entire day, Rune could still feel Blakely pondering and calculating. He didn't understand the message, and until he figured it out, neither of them would be allowed to rest.

Rune carefully ignored his other side, as he went through the daily tasks that had long since become a habit for him. This, he could do. This was something that was comfortable for him. Even if Rune had known that Blakely wouldn't be calm and quiet in their shared mind until the rest of his project had been fixed. And that was how Blakely would think about it, as a project.


End file.
